


Message in a Bottle

by tinybox



Series: unreality_strikes_back.exe [10]
Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Crushes, False Memories, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinybox/pseuds/tinybox
Summary: Something seems off with Sayori today.Also, what's the deal with Monika and her weird advice?
Series: unreality_strikes_back.exe [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619047
Kudos: 9





	Message in a Bottle

***Load**

I follow Sayori out of the classroom. As we walk, Sayori plays with her bangs to try and hide the bump, but without much success. 

In a moment, we make it by to the clubroom. 

"Ah, you're back!" Monika greets us cheerfully. "Good timing, I was just about ready to have us start with sharing our poems."

Seeing Sayori's head, Monika blanches. "Sayori, are you okay? That looks like it really hurts!"

Sayori giggles. "I'm fine!"

"What happened?"

"I was playing with the crayons and smacked my forehead into the shelf! At first, Kaito suggested amputation, but he got me some apple juice and a cookie, instead!"

"...Well, anyway!" Monika says after a brief pause, "Were you able to find everything we needed?"

"Uh-huh! I have it all right-" Sayori stops, frantically searching herself. "I forgot all the stuff!"

"Don't worry, I got everything right here," I tell Sayori. "I also got the poster paper."

"Ahahaha!" Monika giggles. "Sounds like you ended up doing most of the work, Kaito."

"Well, Sayori made it an adventure."

"Yeah!"

"Ahaha...okay, okay. In any case, good work! I'll start working on the posters tonight."

"Me too!"

"Okay, everyone!" Monika calls out, "Are you ready to share your poems?"

"I guess so," I say with a shrug. 

Ẅ̷̩̘̹̖̦̫͚͉̯͎̮̙̰͉͆̐͂̎͠ȟ̵͇̬͚̞̲̟̱̩̻̙̭͚̠̣̫̇̄̌̋̈̐͊̄̚͘͝ǒ̸͚̰̮̼͉̟̥̼͖̝͒͝ ̴̩͓̹̠̰̪͚̟̜̏̎̍̐̓͗̔̓͋̉̿͜͠s̶̛̮̫̘͇̹̜̳̥̞̝͌̅̎͋͝͝h̸͎̠͍̐̅̎̽̈́̆̃́̊͠ǒ̶̘̦̆̂͌̽̑̓u̴̡̨͈̩̥̗͔͔̻̭͙̜̤͎̎̇͑̔̽͌̿͜͝l̸̡̢̧̻̫̖̩͕̭͉̳̙̮͙͐̇̑̾͠ͅd̴̫̻̫̲̹̟̘̠ ̵̛͓̙̳͎̬͚̰̰̼̯͉̬͒͂͒̊̀̇̐͐̓̚͝I̵̢̢͔̙̟̝͇̻͆̉͛̇̉̓̔̐̅̂̇̄̚͝ ̶̥͎̃̔̈́͑̆s̵͍̘̙̼̓͒̇͑̀̌̊͝ḩ̶̡̼͈̳̬̱͎̯̔̑̾̈̋͂̓͒͒̉͌̉̚͝ͅo̸̟͈͓̫̫̓̈́̀w̷̛̗͇̗̭̓̽̑ ̸͈̫̦̻̮̺͔͋̔͜m̷̡͍͓̻̱͍̮̫̪͕͕͉̙̪̜̀̓̊͐͊͂y̸̳͇̰͖͇̫̩̅͊̍̋̈́̓̆̅̀͛̽̿̀̕͝ͅ ̸̼͙͎͍̼̈̆̋́̈́̐̍͒̄̚͠͝͝ͅp̸̳̖͔̫̲̙̣͖̦̙̗̂͋̐̓̐ơ̶͙̮͙͚̩̖͚̗̲̱̺̗̦̝͉̅̐͆̒̂̈́̈́̈́͗̕̕͝ể̵͔̗͎̯̙͙͈͇̖̘̬̬͈͠m̴̱̕ ̶̢̫͆̀̑̔͊̐̎͛̒͑͂̏t̴̢̢̝̟͕͈̲̃͛͐͋̎̉͐̂̅͆̑ợ̶̤̰̪̥͚̯̜̤̲̞̳̘͚̈́̑͆̈́̈́̍̐͋̕͘̕̕͠ ̸̡̩̪̩̭̝̪͖̝̗̞̹̲̓̐̾̆̈̋̍̑̑͋͘f̷̳̹͗i̵̲̼̬̝̼̓̾͊͑̏̇̈́ͅŗ̸̛̝͔̭̪̼̪͉̤̮̫̣̤̿̽͂͛̚ͅs̷̖͕̥̳̺̪̦̣͖̹̙̓̒̒̏̄̀̄̆̽͜͠t̵̢̡̧̘͇̞͓͓̤̳̪̯̝͉̔̽̐̆ͅ?̸̡̧̛̮͚͍̈́̉̓͊̀͑̉͆̍͌͝

Ş̶̱͈͓͇̣͓̗̆̐̾̽̊͘͝a̴̧̛̦͚̣̜̻̎̃̂̄͐̓͑́̉̕y̶̗͓̖̌̍̍ô̷̡̜͈̭͇̖͒́͑̂͐͛͆̃ŕ̶̜̭̜̫͕̬͍̥̌̊̐̃͠į̴̣̲̭̦̬̼͖̹̱̣̲͖͔̩̏

Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠

Y̵̭̳̬̞̻̬̝͈̯͔͐̿̃̎̌̄̐̈́̐͂̃͠ͅͅu̸̢̡̡͓̜̝̗̞̣̘̳̻͑͐̎̅͜r̴̨͇̤̠͇̃̀̋͑̈́̾̉̑̉̑̋͊̕͝i̴̺̳̻̍

M̶̧̩̝̹̊o̸̧̟̫̺̱̤̭͈̱͒̀͊̎̌̎̚ͅņ̶͈̙̩̃͑́̀͗̈́̑͝͝i̷̡̨̹̩͇̓̇k̸͙̗̝̹̫͖͇̫͖̬͇̪͈̻̆͆̈́̇͒̌̚̚͘ã̸̡̺̦͖̳͚͓̹̗̺̄̌̏̂͐̑͜͠ͅͅ

Looks like Monika's free.

When I approach her, she smiles at me sweetly. "Hi again, Kaito! How's the writing going?"

I make a so-so gesture. "Alright, I guess..."

Monika giggles. "I'll take that. As long as it's not going bad! I'm happy that you're applying yourself. Maybe soon you'll come up with a masterpiece!"

"Ahaha....I wouldn't count on that."

"You never know! Anyway, want to share the poem you wrote?"

"Sure," I tell Monika, passing over my poem to her. 

When she gets my work, she scans the paper thoughtfully, green eyes focused on every single ink stroke. Standing and watching her read makes me feel...uneasy. Like I'm a student standing in front of a teacher looking over a mediocre essay with a critical eye and a red pen at the ready.

Looking up from the paper, Monika smiles at me. "...Alright! It's pretty good!"

Monika pauses, tapping her chin with her forefinger for a moment in thought. "You know, this one makes me think of Sayori, just like the other one you wrote yesterday. You two are like the dynamic duo!"

I chuckle nervously, scratching the back of my neck. "I guess so. Although...I would say it's a bit of exaggeration, though."

Monika shrugs. "Yeah, probably. But you do spend a lot of time with her even in this club, don't you? Then again, I don't blame you for being a little shy."

"I-I'm not shy, it's just...I'm always awkward around new people. Um..."

"Don't worry, I'm just teasing. I know it takes a bit of time to make friends with everyone. But Yuri and Natsuki are super interesting people, so don't be afraid to give them their share of time! And you can talk to me every now and then, too...I'm not unapproachable or anything, am I?"

I quickly shake my head. "No, it's nothing like that! I just tend to worry about..."

"It's okay, Kaito. And...I'm sorry if I was putting too much pressure on you. I really didn't mean it like that!"

"No, don't worry. I get what you're saying."

"Well, alright. But anyway...you want to read my poem now? I like the way this one turned out, so I hope you do too!"

"Alright, let's take a look..."

_**Save Me** _

_The colors, they won't stop._   
_Bright, beautiful colors_   
_Flashing, expanding, piercing_   
_Red, green, blue_   
_An endless_   
_cacophony_   
_Of meaningless_   
_noise_

_The noise, it won't stop._   
_Violent, grating waveforms_   
_Squeaking, screeching, piercing_   
_Sine, cosine, tangent_   
_Like playing a chalkboard on a turntable_   
_Like playing a vinyl on a pizza crust_   
_An endless_   
_poem_   
_Of meaningless_

_Load Me_

For a just a moment, there's a faint buzzing in my ears, and I feel like something's subtly wrong. Like looking into a room with a piece of furniture slightly out of place, or a song missing a note, or a play without an important character.

Just as quickly, though, the sensation fades, and is easily forgotten. 

"Hm..." I hum thoughtfully. "It's even more abstract than your last one, huh?"

"Ahaha..." Monika giggles. "I guess it's just the way I write...I'm sorry if you don't like it."

"No, I never said that!" I protest. "It's just a kind of thing I've never really seen before, I guess."

"I kind of like playing with my space on the paper...choosing when and how to space your words can totally change the mood of the poem." 

Monika's eyes brighten. "It's almost like magic! The way I wrote the lines really short makes it feel like they're trying to speak over the noise."

"I see...it's still hard for me to tell what it's about, though."

_Or why it makes me feel uneasy to read it..._

"Ahaha." Monika giggles. "Sometimes asking what a poem is about isn't the right question. A poem can be as abstract as a physical expression of a feeling. Or a conversation with the reader. So putting it that way, not every poem is _about_ something."

Monika smiles sweetly at me. "Anyway...here's Monika's Writing Tip of the Day! Sometimes you'll find yourself a difficult decision...when that happens, don't forget to save your game! You never know when you might change your mind...or when something unexpected might happen."

_Huh?_

Monika startles, looking a little confused. "Wait...is this tip even about writing? What am I even talking about?" 

Giggling nervously, Monika finishes with, "...That's my advice for the today! Thanks for listening!"

"Um...okay? I guess I'll talk to someone else now..."

_That was weird._

Ẅ̷̩̘̹̖̦̫͚͉̯͎̮̙̰͉͆̐͂̎͠ȟ̵͇̬͚̞̲̟̱̩̻̙̭͚̠̣̫̇̄̌̋̈̐͊̄̚͘͝ǒ̸͚̰̮̼͉̟̥̼͖̝͒͝ ̴̩͓̹̠̰̪͚̟̜̏̎̍̐̓͗̔̓͋̉̿͜͠s̶̛̮̫̘͇̹̜̳̥̞̝͌̅̎͋͝͝h̸͎̠͍̐̅̎̽̈́̆̃́̊͠ǒ̶̘̦̆̂͌̽̑̓u̴̡̨͈̩̥̗͔͔̻̭͙̜̤͎̎̇͑̔̽͌̿͜͝l̸̡̢̧̻̫̖̩͕̭͉̳̙̮͙͐̇̑̾͠ͅd̴̫̻̫̲̹̟̘̠ ̵̛͓̙̳͎̬͚̰̰̼̯͉̬͒͂͒̊̀̇̐͐̓̚͝I̵̢̢͔̙̟̝͇̻͆̉͛̇̉̓̔̐̅̂̇̄̚͝ ̶̥͎̃̔̈́͑̆s̵͍̘̙̼̓͒̇͑̀̌̊͝ḩ̶̡̼͈̳̬̱͎̯̔̑̾̈̋͂̓͒͒̉͌̉̚͝ͅo̸̟͈͓̫̫̓̈́̀w̷̛̗͇̗̭̓̽̑ ̸͈̫̦̻̮̺͔͋̔͜m̷̡͍͓̻̱͍̮̫̪͕͕͉̙̪̜̀̓̊͐͊͂y̸̳͇̰͖͇̫̩̅͊̍̋̈́̓̆̅̀͛̽̿̀̕͝ͅ ̸̼͙͎͍̼̈̆̋́̈́̐̍͒̄̚͠͝͝ͅp̸̳̖͔̫̲̙̣͖̦̙̗̂͋̐̓̐ơ̶͙̮͙͚̩̖͚̗̲̱̺̗̦̝͉̅̐͆̒̂̈́̈́̈́͗̕̕͝ể̵͔̗͎̯̙͙͈͇̖̘̬̬͈͠m̴̱̕ ̶̢̫͆̀̑̔͊̐̎͛̒͑͂̏t̴̢̢̝̟͕͈̲̃͛͐͋̎̉͐̂̅͆̑ợ̶̤̰̪̥͚̯̜̤̲̞̳̘͚̈́̑͆̈́̈́̍̐͋̕͘̕̕͠ ̸̡̩̪̩̭̝̪͖̝̗̞̹̲̓̐̾̆̈̋̍̑̑͋͘f̷̳̹͗i̵̲̼̬̝̼̓̾͊͑̏̇̈́ͅŗ̸̛̝͔̭̪̼̪͉̤̮̫̣̤̿̽͂͛̚ͅs̷̖͕̥̳̺̪̦̣͖̹̙̓̒̒̏̄̀̄̆̽͜͠t̵̢̡̧̘͇̞͓͓̤̳̪̯̝͉̔̽̐̆ͅ?̸̡̧̛̮͚͍̈́̉̓͊̀͑̉͆̍͌͝

Ş̶̱͈͓͇̣͓̗̆̐̾̽̊͘͝a̴̧̛̦͚̣̜̻̎̃̂̄͐̓͑́̉̕y̶̗͓̖̌̍̍ô̷̡̜͈̭͇̖͒́͑̂͐͛͆̃ŕ̶̜̭̜̫͕̬͍̥̌̊̐̃͠į̴̣̲̭̦̬̼͖̹̱̣̲͖͔̩̏

Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠

Y̵̭̳̬̞̻̬̝͈̯͔͐̿̃̎̌̄̐̈́̐͂̃͠ͅͅu̸̢̡̡͓̜̝̗̞̣̘̳̻͑͐̎̅͜r̴̨͇̤̠͇̃̀̋͑̈́̾̉̑̉̑̋͊̕͝i̴̺̳̻̍

"Hello, Kaito," Yuri says, smiling a little as she greets me. "Let's see what you've written for today."

As Yuri reads my poem, she hums a little to herself. 

"Mm...well done, Kaito. Your skills are already improving."

"Really? Thanks, Yuri. Coming from you, that means a lot."

Yuri startles. "Eh? I-It's nothing! I'm just happy to inspire fellow writers...I know you're new to this, so don't worry so much if it seems like you can't get your poem to be perfect. You don't need to be afraid to be a little more daring...metaphors can go a long way. Don't feel like you need to work your brain like turning a bunch of gears." 

She smiles at me. "Try letting your mind wander through your feelings...and write down the things you see and hear. That's one way to truly enable your reader to see into your mind. It's a very intimate exercise..."

"You're always good with metaphors, Yuri," I compliment. "Mind if I steal some stuff- I mean, borrow some stuff from your work as inspiration?"

Yuri flushes. "Oh, I don't mind at all."

"Anyway, that's a pretty interesting technique. Thanks, Yuri!"

"I have, um...well, an example of that, if you'd like to read it..."

"Of course! Is this the poem you wrote for today?"

Yuri nods, timidly handing me her poem. 

**_The Raccoon_**

_It happened in the dead of night while I was slicing bread for a guilty snack._   
_My attention was caught by the scuttering of a raccoon outside my window._   
_That was, I believe, the first time I noticed my strange tendencies as an unusual_   
_human._   
_I gave the raccoon a piece of bread, my subconscious well aware of the consequences._   
_Well aware that a raccoon that is fed will always come back for more._   
_The enticing beauty of my cutting knife was the symptom._   
_The bread, my hungry curiosity._   
_The raccoon, an urge._   
  
_The moon increments its phase and reflects that much more light off of my cutting_   
_knife._   
_The very same light that glistens in the eyes of my raccoon friend._   
_I slice the bread, fresh and soft. The raccoon becomes excited._   
_or perhaps I'm merely projecting my emotions onto the newly-satisfied animal._   
  
_The raccoon has taken to following me._   
_You could say that we've gotten quite used to each other._   
_The raccoon becomes hungry more and more frequently, so my bread is always handy._   
_Every time I brandish my cutting knife the raccoon shows me its excitement._   
_A rush of blood. Classic Pavlovian conditioning. I slice the bread._

_And I feed myself again._

"I was a little bit more daring with this one than yesterday's," Yuri tells me. 

"It's a lot more metaphorical..." I comment, before adding, "I like the way the words, um, flow together."

_I don't know if it's my fault, but I can't begin to imagine what this poem is about._

Yuri smiles, starting to blush a little bit. "It's a bit closer to my preferred writing style...using the poem as a canvas to express vivid imagery, and conveying emotions through them."

"Yeah, if I take it at face-value, then I can't even figure out what it's supposed to mean..."

"Well..." Yuri begins, "I think it's something people can relate to in their own way. I wanted to express the way it feels for me to indulge in my more unusual hobbies...it's those sort of things that I'm usually forced to keep to myself. So, I sometimes enjoy writing about them."

"Why don't you share them?"

Yuri looks down at her hands, twisting her fingers together anxiously. "Be...because...they're embarrassing...and people would make fun of me. Don't you have anything like that, Kaito?"

"I understand what you mean. Sometimes I worry that if I tell people I like something out of the ordinary, they'll think I'm weird...there's this one manga I was really into, but I couldn't tell anyone because it's kind of a girly series. But...I'm starting to get a little braver these days, I think. If you ever want to share what you're interested in, I promise not to make fun of you. Cross my heart."

"I feel like everyone has a little something like that." Yuri says quietly. "The best thing we can do is respect each other and our individualities. Even if it's difficult sometimes, and some things make us uncomfortable...after all, if I hadn't learned to embrace my own weirdness, I would probably hate myself."

Yuri pauses, her face flushing. "I-I might be ranting a little bit now...but I'm glad you're a good listener."

Ẅ̷̩̘̹̖̦̫͚͉̯͎̮̙̰͉͆̐͂̎͠ȟ̵͇̬͚̞̲̟̱̩̻̙̭͚̠̣̫̇̄̌̋̈̐͊̄̚͘͝ǒ̸͚̰̮̼͉̟̥̼͖̝͒͝ ̴̩͓̹̠̰̪͚̟̜̏̎̍̐̓͗̔̓͋̉̿͜͠s̶̛̮̫̘͇̹̜̳̥̞̝͌̅̎͋͝͝h̸͎̠͍̐̅̎̽̈́̆̃́̊͠ǒ̶̘̦̆̂͌̽̑̓u̴̡̨͈̩̥̗͔͔̻̭͙̜̤͎̎̇͑̔̽͌̿͜͝l̸̡̢̧̻̫̖̩͕̭͉̳̙̮͙͐̇̑̾͠ͅd̴̫̻̫̲̹̟̘̠ ̵̛͓̙̳͎̬͚̰̰̼̯͉̬͒͂͒̊̀̇̐͐̓̚͝I̵̢̢͔̙̟̝͇̻͆̉͛̇̉̓̔̐̅̂̇̄̚͝ ̶̥͎̃̔̈́͑̆s̵͍̘̙̼̓͒̇͑̀̌̊͝ḩ̶̡̼͈̳̬̱͎̯̔̑̾̈̋͂̓͒͒̉͌̉̚͝ͅo̸̟͈͓̫̫̓̈́̀w̷̛̗͇̗̭̓̽̑ ̸͈̫̦̻̮̺͔͋̔͜m̷̡͍͓̻̱͍̮̫̪͕͕͉̙̪̜̀̓̊͐͊͂y̸̳͇̰͖͇̫̩̅͊̍̋̈́̓̆̅̀͛̽̿̀̕͝ͅ ̸̼͙͎͍̼̈̆̋́̈́̐̍͒̄̚͠͝͝ͅp̸̳̖͔̫̲̙̣͖̦̙̗̂͋̐̓̐ơ̶͙̮͙͚̩̖͚̗̲̱̺̗̦̝͉̅̐͆̒̂̈́̈́̈́͗̕̕͝ể̵͔̗͎̯̙͙͈͇̖̘̬̬͈͠m̴̱̕ ̶̢̫͆̀̑̔͊̐̎͛̒͑͂̏t̴̢̢̝̟͕͈̲̃͛͐͋̎̉͐̂̅͆̑ợ̶̤̰̪̥͚̯̜̤̲̞̳̘͚̈́̑͆̈́̈́̍̐͋̕͘̕̕͠ ̸̡̩̪̩̭̝̪͖̝̗̞̹̲̓̐̾̆̈̋̍̑̑͋͘f̷̳̹͗i̵̲̼̬̝̼̓̾͊͑̏̇̈́ͅŗ̸̛̝͔̭̪̼̪͉̤̮̫̣̤̿̽͂͛̚ͅs̷̖͕̥̳̺̪̦̣͖̹̙̓̒̒̏̄̀̄̆̽͜͠t̵̢̡̧̘͇̞͓͓̤̳̪̯̝͉̔̽̐̆ͅ?̸̡̧̛̮͚͍̈́̉̓͊̀͑̉͆̍͌͝

Ş̶̱͈͓͇̣͓̗̆̐̾̽̊͘͝a̴̧̛̦͚̣̜̻̎̃̂̄͐̓͑́̉̕y̶̗͓̖̌̍̍ô̷̡̜͈̭͇̖͒́͑̂͐͛͆̃ŕ̶̜̭̜̫͕̬͍̥̌̊̐̃͠į̴̣̲̭̦̬̼͖̹̱̣̲͖͔̩̏

Ņ̸̧̺̭͍͈͓̜̣̝̠͈̓̒͛͐͜͝a̷̧͚̣̺̐ͅţ̵̢̡̛̩̟͇̻̪̜͗͑̓͊̄̆̍̐̕͜s̶͈͎̣̰͐̂̿̅̈́̔͆̍͆͝u̵̡̢̘̣̫͉͉̜̙̹̱̬͕̦̟͒̉̓k̸̢̨̢̻̰̙̺̹̙͇̥̱͓̣͂͗i̷̢̬̝̞̎̀̾͂͆͠

"I really love your poems, Kaito," Sayori says with a smile. "I can't believe you've been hiding these from me!"

"Eh? I'm not hiding anything from you! Except for your birthday present- I mean, um...never mind."

Sayori giggles. "But...your poems are sooooo good...yesterday's, and this one too! You can't tell me you haven't done this before!"

"I mean...you're really the only person who feels that way, so..."

Sayori gasps. "Eh?! No way!! Not even Natsuki...?"

"Well, I guess Natsuki is the least likely to admit she likes something...but I don't think it's that."

"What do you mean?"

"Please don't think is creepy or weird, but I...find it a lot easier to write poems when I'm thinking about you."

"E-Eh?!" Sayori gasps, eyes wide. "Wawawa-!"

"...I made it weird, didn't I? I just...what I mean to say is that you're a very expressive person. How am I supposed to write poems about my own stupid life? But you somehow make everything in your life an adventure. Even the little things."

"Like cooking!!"

I wince. "Let's not talk about that!"

"Ehehe..."

"So, yeah...I guess what I'm saying is that I can feel more feelings through you than I can myself. We have this weird connection...and I totally blame you for that by the way." 

Sayori looks a little confused. "Eh? I don't know if I understand..."

I sigh. "You never understand when I try to explain things to you, do you, Sayori?"

I pat Sayori on the head.

Giggling, she ducks away from my hand. "Ahaha! Heyyy! I'm not a kid, you know!"

"Are you sure about that?" I tease.

"Mmm, maybe."

Sayori starts fiddling with her pencil between her hands. "Hey, Kaito? Will you give me your poem? I kinda want to keep it."

"Huh? Why?"

Sayori flushes. "Because...well...it's the first time you've ever written something for me..."

I roll my eyes. "Sayori, you doofus. I've been writing my poems for you all along. You're only realizing this now?"

**_Snap!_ **

The pencil breaks into two pieces.

"A-Ah!" Sayori yelps. "I broke my pencil..."

Sayori hastily bends down to pick up the pieces she dropped. But, being inattentive of her surroundings, she bumps right into me. 

"Oof."

"S-S-Sorry-!!"

"It's fine, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Here, I'll get it for you."

Bending down, I pick up the broken pencil. 

Sayori clutches the desk beside her to support herself, knees shaking. "I-I'm a little clumsy today," she stutters. "Ahahaha..."

"Let's sit down, Sayori. You've already had enough brain trauma for today."

"Y-Yeah..."

I gently grab Sayori's arm and help her sit down at the desk. 

"Standing's overrated," I joke. "Anyway, I still haven't read your poem..."

"Oh! Sorry, I forgot about that! But it's not as good as yours..."

"Jeez, don't worry! I'm sure I'll like it."

_**Bottles.** _

_I pop off my scalp like the lid of a cookie jar._

_It's the secret place where I keep all my dreams._   
_Little balls of sunshine, all rubbing together like a bundle of kittens._

_I reach inside with my thumb and forefinger and pluck one out._   
_It's warm and tingly._   
_But there's no time to waste! I put it in a bottle to keep it safe._   
_And I put the bottle on the shelf with all of the other bottles._   
_Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts in bottles, all in a row._

_My collection makes me lots of friends._   
_Each bottle a starlight to make amends._   
_Sometimes my friend feels a certain way._   
_Down comes a bottle to save the day._

_Night after night, more dreams._   
_Friend after friend, more bottles._   
_Deeper and deeper my fingers go._   
_Like exploring a dark cave, discovering the secrets hiding in the nooks and crannies._   
_Digging and digging._   
_Scraping and scraping._

_I blow dust off my bottle caps._   
_It doesn't feel like time elapsed._   
_My empty shelf could use some more._   
_My friends look through my locked front door._

_Finally, all done. I open up, and in come my friends._   
_In they come, in such a hurry. Do they want my bottles that much?_   
_I frantically pull them from the shelf, one after the other._   
_Holding them out to each and every friend._   
_Each and every bottle._   
_But every time I let one go, it shatters against the tile between my feet._   
_Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts in shards, all over the floor._

_They were supposed to be for my friends, my friends who aren't smiling._   
_They're all shouting, pleading. Something._   
_But all I hear is echo, echo, echo, echo, echo_   
_Inside my head._

"...Sayori, did you really write this?"

"Of course I did! Didn't I tell you yesterday that I was going to write the best poem ever?"

I shrug, looking back down at the poem. "Yeah, but...I didn't expect something like this, coming from you."

"Monika taught me a whole lot!" Sayori says earnestly. "And I've been really in touch with my feelings recently..."

I scan the poem for a third time. "I see that. Um...Sayori?"

"Yeah?"

"Never mind. It's just that it's...almost kind of creepy."

"Creepy...?"

"Well, not exactly. Maybe it's because I'm so used to you being cheerful...well, never mind. I'm thinking too hard about it. The point is, it came out good, so you should be proud of it."

"Aw, thanks! I feel like...I feel like I was express myself this way. It even helps me understand my thoughts a little bit better...writing is like magic!"

"You've gotten pretty passionate about this, huh? I hope you can keep it up."

"Yeah! Writing's the best! I'm going to keep writing until I die!"

"Ahaha...don't get ahead of yourself."

Sayori's always had a habit of getting obsessed with something before dropping it no more than a week later. 

I wonder if this is one of those times?

Seeing the passion in her face, though...it makes it hard for me to feel pessimistic.

***Save**


End file.
